


Learning To Breathe

by Writeonthrough (Schroederplayspiano)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Brain Injury, Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, Love, Rehab and recovery, Support, post 1x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schroederplayspiano/pseuds/Writeonthrough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma is late to see Fitz at the hospital, she has a chance to talk to his doctor about making his recovery a little easier. Despite the struggles her visit with Fitz brings, Jemma is able to count more small victories today than in days passed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning To Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuperIrishBreakfastTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperIrishBreakfastTea/gifts).



“Hey, hey!” Jemma rushed past the last set of hospital doors, leaving them swinging behind her. Dr. Quinn turned from her clipboard at the commotion, frowning at Jemma once she saw her.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah. I know.” Jemma panted, trying to catch her breath. One arm reached across her abdomen and the other rested on the hospital wall handrail. “Sorry.”

Dr. Quinn raised her eyebrows at Jemma. “Your tardiness has nothing to do with what happened yesterday, does it?”

Jemma stood straighter. “No, of course not.”

“Jemma,” Dr. Quinn said her name softly, losing whatever judgement she added to her voice in greeting. “Fitz is doing extraordinarily well. He started talking again, he’s walking, his arm is even going to recover…eventually.”

While the doctor spoke, Jemma turned towards Fitz’s hospital room window. There he was—sitting up in that horrible eggplant chair. The speech therapist sat across from him, a rickety table separating them. Jemma noted the small plastic breathing exercise device that sat on it. Its stickers of hot air balloons and airplanes were enough to make her want to throw it against the wall.

“You have to be patient with the mood swings and the frustrations.” Dr. Quinn reminded Jemma.

“No. It’s more than that—!” Jemma drew in her breath at the words. Her heartbeat echoed through her body and horror masked her face. “He threw that stupid spirometer at my head.”

“Yeah.” Dr. Quinn tucked her pen inside the board’s clip. “Luckily his hand-eye coordination sucks right now.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes. “You’re seriously being sarcastic with me now?”

“No, Jemma.” The doctor sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m pleased with his progress. I’m pleased he’s showing emotion. With his condition what it is right now, there’s no way he could have hit you. I think, deep down, he knew that.”

“I think you should find him a different spirometer for his breathing exercises.”

Dr. Quinn leaned against the wall and brought a hand to her forehead. “Jemma…it’s not the device.”

“It has pictures of airplanes and hot air balloons and it’s for five-year-olds and it is making him feel like a child, which is one of the worst things he can feel.”

The doctor ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to Jemma. “You’re lucky he’s feeling anything at all.”

Jemma winced. The two stood silent in the noisy hospital hallway for a moment. “Listen, I’m sorry I being such a thorn in your side. You’re right. He is making progress and I should cherish that more, I know.” Jemma swallowed and licked her lips. “I’m just trying to say I know him. I know him better than anyone. And I’m telling you part of the problem is that device.” Jemma sighed. Her expression, tired and pained, pleaded with the doctor. “Please.”

“Jemma, I don’t have another device to give him.”

Somehow the doctor’s words gave her hope. Jemma stood up straight. “Ok. But what if I found one? Could you give me the model number he needs? I will go and find him a different one.”

Dr. Quinn sighed again. “Yeah.” Even though they may have found a victory to celebrate, Dr. Quinn looked defeated. “I’ll grab that information for you. Now,” Her head motioned to Fitz through the window. “Don’t waste anymore time with me. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

Jemma turned back to Fitz through the window. Dr. Quinn noticed her body change whenever she interacted with Fitz. And so did Fitz’s. The two had a magnetic pull to one another that the world’s science couldn’t help her understand. She rested her hand on Jemma’s arm before turning to check on other patients.

The sound of blowing bubbles in water greeted Jemma when she entered the room. She dropped her bag at the end of his hospital bed and softly made her way further into the room, hoping not to disturb the exercise.

She did anyway. The moment Fitz saw her, he lost his seal on the straw and the bubbles flattened. Matt, the speech therapist, turned to her and spoke the words Fitz was thinking, but couldn’t say, “Where have you been?”

Jemma smiled at Matt, but said nothing. Instead, she walked to Fitz and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hi, Fitz.” He looked up at her and she took it as a victory. Her brown eyes found his blue ones and she noticed a warmth in them she hadn’t seen since he woke up in the hospital. “You making enough trouble for Matt?”

If she looked really close, the corners of Fitz’s lips upturned. With her hand still resting on his shoulder, Jemma felt Fitz raise his shoulders in a ‘ _Maybe, I don’t know_ ,’ motion. She took his shoulder raise as another victory.

“Just so you know,” Matt caught Jemma’s attention. “He makes more trouble for me when you’re not here.”

“Oh, I know.” Jemma smiled. “I’m sorry I miss it every time he does.”

Fitz’s small smile was obvious now. As much as Matt appreciated the progress, he shook his head in mild annoyance. “The two of you together…I swear…You make quite the team.”

“Yes, we do.”

On instinct, Jemma offered her flat palm to Fitz for a high-five, not realizing his opposite hand was his shaky one. Fitz released his grip on the arm of the eggplant chair to raise his hand to hers. Once his arm had nothing to steady it, it trembled in midair. He missed Jemma’s palm by inches and by the time she reached down to capture his fist, he was already in the process of shoving all of the items off the dinky table.

Water spilled everywhere.

Jemma rushed back and closed her eyes at the noise. The plastic cup was the worst of it. Its end bounced on the floor, and then on its side, spinning on the tile before finally stilling.

By the time Jemma looked back at Fitz, he was heaving.

She didn’t hear Matt’s attempts to calm him. She didn’t hear the two nurses rush in. All she heard was Fitz and his labored attempts to catch his breath.

It happened in slow motion. Jemma turned her head in his direction, her long hair flying around her shoulders. The two large steps it took to reach him seemed to take minutes rather than seconds.

Her hand magnetized to his chest. She felt his heart beating so fast, she worried a moment for his safety.

“Hey, Fitz. Hey,” Jemma whispered, trying to make eye contact with him. He wouldn’t let her. “Hey. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. It’s just a stupid cup.”

In and out. Up and down. She held her hand on her chest until the movement steadied. As it did, Jemma brought her palm to his cheek.    
“S-s-sor-r-ry,” stumbled out of his lips. When Jemma smiled warmly at him, Fitz covered her hand with his own.

“It’s okay.” Jemma noted that ‘sorry’ was often the first word he said to her each day—no matter the context. “There’s no need to be sorry. It was my fault. I went in for the wrong hand.”

“N-n-n-ooo.” Fitz pulled away from her. Suddenly aware of the nurses and doctors making their way into the room at the commotion, he turned his back to them and looked out the window.

“Matt,” Jemma forced herself to find a warm expression. “Is it okay if we have the room? Please?”

After a moment’s silence, Matt gave in. “Sure, Jemma.”

Once the room cleared, Jemma reached for a towel to dry the water. As Fitz had a habit of starring out the window for long periods of time, she felt confident enough to finish cleaning without him protesting. Jemma took the cup, its straw, and the spirometer and shoved them in a drawer before reaching for her bag.

“Hey Fitz,” she called his name as she reached for its contents. When he didn’t turn at his name, Jemma knew her next words would. “I made you a prosciutto and mozzarella sandwich. Do you want it?”

Fitz turned back instantly. His feelings were etched into his expression; relief, gratitude, and for once—eagerness at what came next in his day.

Jemma couldn’t hide her smile as he walked towards her and yanked the sandwich from her hand. She scrunched her nose at him and grabbed the other sandwich from her bag before taking her seat across from him.

“I have more good news, Fitz.”

Fitz stopped fumbling with the sandwich’s packaging to really look at her. His gaze searched hers as she reached forward to untie the ties she had tied around the sandwich an hour earlier.

“I’m going to find you another spirometer. So when you blow into it to strengthen you breath, instead of trying to reach those stupid hot air balloons and airplanes, you can just aim for the benchmark numbers and lines, which hopefully will be a tad less humiliating,” Her words rushed out of her, not wanting to think about how many assumptions she was making.

Jemma tried to read his face. She wished his words would come, but knew they wouldn’t given the complexity of the statement. “Does that sound better?” She tried again.

Fitz fought to reply. His legs started shaking. Then his shoulders. And finally, his hands.

Jemma reached for his hands and stilled them. “You don’t have to say anything. I know taking away the air balloons and airplanes doesn’t make it better.” Jemma sighed. “I know, Fitz.”

With her understanding, Fitz’s body steadied. He looked at her again—longing and tenderness filling his eyes.

 _Yeah_. Jemma inhaled deeply. _I know that too._

**Author's Note:**

> Loved to hear from you in the comments! ♥︎ Thanks to ughfitz for the awesome beta!


End file.
